


Into the Forest

by stellaisnotamermaid



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), and i was possessed to write this, bandits, because apparently i dislike angst more than i realized, but a friend wanted this to be a fic, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaisnotamermaid/pseuds/stellaisnotamermaid
Summary: When Merlin had noticed the arrow flying straight for Arthur’s heart, he was absolutely certain that revealing his magic was exactly what he needed to do. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Because now, Arthur was staring at him, horror painted across his face like some over-the-top Halloween costume.orArthur finds out about Merlin's magic while they're alone in the woods, and Merlin freaks out.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 748
Collections: Merlin





	Into the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> for my new friend abbie! she wanted a fic like this, so... here you go :)
> 
> if you're here because of my hp+merlin crossover, i am so sorry, i hate OotP with a burning passion because it's so drawn out, and I'm trying to find out how to write it so that Merlin doesn't just kill Umbridge one page into the fic.

When Merlin had noticed the arrow flying straight for Arthur’s heart, he was absolutely certain that revealing his magic was exactly what he needed to do. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Arthur’s face was almost as paper-white as Merlin felt that his must be, and his eyes kept flicking back and forth between the arrow and Merlin.

“You have magic?” It wasn’t a question of whether he had it or not—no, that was obvious. It was a question of  _ how could you betray me? I trusted you.  _ It was a question of  _ you, of all people? The only person who’s stuck by me all these years? _

Arthur’s eyes met his, and he felt his heart shatter. There was no recognition in them, only some empty emotion that read like betrayal. Merlin felt like he couldn’t breathe, like all of the oxygen had somehow disappeared from the forest, like all of the trees had been rotting stumps of wood for centuries, and nothing had grown to replace them.

Merlin’s eyes flicked back over to the bush where the bandit had been, but he was gone. Merlin glanced at Arthur one last time—at his face that was void of emotion other than pure anger—and bolted.

In the few seconds that it took Arthur to fully process what had just happened, Merlin had found a deer trail that was just wide enough for him to escape through. He heard Arthur swear and start crashing after him, using his sword to move low-hanging tree branches out of his way, and tried to put more energy into his legs, but it wasn’t working, he couldn’t run any faster, no matter how much he tried. Arthur wasn’t just the best fighter in the kingdom—he was the fittest person by far, and no matter how long Merlin had spent on a farm as a kid, or chasing after Arthur as his manservant, he wasn’t anywhere near as fast as the prince.

He was smaller, of course, so he didn’t have to stop to push tree branches out of his way, but from what he could tell based off of the noises growing closer to him, that wasn’t slowing Arthur down at all.

He could use magic, right? There had to be a spell or enchantment to get out of this.

_ “Merlin, stop,”  _ Arthur yelled, but Merlin just picked up his speed, begging for the plants to grow thicker in his wake. Based off of Arthur’s groan of annoyance, it was working.  _ “Merlin—”  _ Arthur repeated, but he was cut off by a  _ thump _ that Merlin assumed meant he’d tripped over a root or a stick and fallen.

It took everything in him to fight the instinct to turn around and make sure that his king was okay.

That was the moment where Merlin realized that everything was going downhill—well, more so than it already had. He slid to a stop, feeling like his heart was about to slide out of his throat.

Behind him, Arthur was chasing him down with a sword. In front of him, there were half a dozen bandits. Merlin took half a step backwards, but heard a quiet  _ snap _ right behind him. He spun around, and Arthur was standing there, sword out, trying to catch his breath. Then he raised his sword and shifted his weight, and Merlin spun back around, pushing the bandits out of his way with a half-formed thought and pure adrenaline.

And then they were off again, Merlin a fox and Arthur a hound. Why couldn’t Arthur give it up? How could he think that Merlin— _ Merlin _ , of all people—would betray him? He’d been by Arthur’s side for years, and had publicly saved his life at least twice by risking his own. Did that mean nothing? Was Arthur really willing to let all of those years go down the drain simply because Merlin had saved his life  _ yet again  _ with magic? If he wasn’t willing to look past Merlin’s magic that was—not fine, but he could live with it—but he couldn’t even just let him live? He couldn’t let him go back home to his mum, and never see him again?

The trees opened up to a dry, open landscape that Merlin was certain he’d never seen before despite all of their adventuring in these woods. How far would he have to run? How far would he have to go for Arthur to give up? Until the stitch in his side was numbed? Until—Merlin tripped over a rock and tried to pull himself back up to his feet, but the land cut off sharply in front of him, and what was the point? Arthur wasn’t going to give up for as long as Merlin still had his head.

He tried to push himself towards the edge of the cliff, but Arthur was still gaining on him, and he wasn’t showing signs of slowing down—

_ “Merlin, stop it!”  _ Arthur yelled, voice hoarse from lack of air.

“Arthur, please, I swear—”

“Would you just listen to me  _ for once in your life?” _ Arthur demanded, coming to a stop in front of Merlin, who had turned to face him.

“I’m sorry—I swear I would never hurt you—I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—”

Merlin wasn’t even sure whether he could breathe at this point. He wasn’t looking at Arthur, couldn’t look at the man he loved and see hatred that was directed at him, couldn’t breathe—

“Merlin, breathe.” Arthur commanded, dropping to his knees. “You need to breathe. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Why would Arthur lie about that, when it was so obvious that he was planning to? Why would Arthur say that—unless he was trying to get Merlin to come back to Camelot so that he could execute him properly, make an example out of him just like his father had every sorcerer before him—

_ “Merlin.”  _ Arthur’s voice shocked him out of his thoughts, and he risked a glance at him. His face was a blank canvas, ready to be painted with whatever emotion Arthur decided to settle on. “Look at me.”

His sword was abandoned a few steps away, and he was mirroring Merlin’s posture other than the fact that he was open, as if welcoming an attack—

“Please don’t kill me—I’m sorry—” Merlin whispered, practically choking around his tears.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Arthur said. “Come here.” At Merlin’s inquisitive whimper, Arthur scooted closer and held his arms out. What was he planning on doing, choking Merlin until he was unconscious?

Merlin pushed himself back a tiny bit, feeling his hand lose traction on the ground and meet empty air.

Arthur made a tiny sound of alarm and all but leapt forward, grabbing Merlin and pulling him away from the edge. “Stop it, you idiot, you’re going to fall.”

“Why do you care?”

“Why do I care?  _ Mer _ lin—”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your reaction to me  _ saving your life.  _ You don’t have to pretend you don’t hate me now.”

_ “Hate  _ you? I was  _ surprised— _ you know, like how you would be if you found out that that the person that you—that your best—that your ser—coworker was keeping a huge secret from you, and quite possibly the stupidest person you knew.”

Merlin opened his mouth, but to say what?

“And don’t try to say that you’re not an idiot. We both know that you are—you came to  _ Camelot,  _ of all places. If my father had found out—if my father had found out, he’d have had you—you’d be—you know how much he hates sorcerers—”

“Like you don’t,” Merlin replied, wishing that he could put at least  _ some  _ distance in between him and Arthur.

“When is the last time you saw a sorcerer executed for something that they wouldn’t have been executed for if they did it without magic?”

“But—you said—”

“I was furious over my father’s death. Of  _ course _ I said that magic was evil—I thought that old sorcerer murdered him just when I decided to trust magic.”

“Thought?”

“There was an artifact he was wearing—Geoffrey said that it was cursed to amplify and reverse the effects of whatever magic was cast on the wearer. It wasn’t that hard to put two and two together.”

“Oh.”

“That isn’t to say I’m not mad at you,” Arthur began, and Merlin tensed, “but I’m only mad at you for  _ lying _ to me. I get why you did, but I gave you countless chances to tell me.”

Merlin let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Just… no more secrets from now on, okay?”

“No more secrets,” Merlin agreed. “I’m—”

“If you say ‘sorry’ one more time, I’m going to run you through with my sword.”

“Sorry,” Merlin said, attempting a weak smile.

Arthur huffed a little, then stood up and reached down to pull Merlin up. Was he standing too close to him? There was barely any room between their feet, what if Merlin stepped on Arthur’s feet, or something? He moved to step back, then happened to look at Arthur’s face.

His breath caught. “In the interest of no more secrets…” he said, eyes flicking down to Arthur’s mouth, because  _ wow, they were awful close, weren’t they? _

“In the interest of no more secrets,” Arthur agreed, eyes falling to Merlin’s mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!!! idea credits go to my new friend abbie! comments and kudos give me life! i have not been writing this for the past one hundred minutes, and it is not 1:00 am. i swear. i promise. it's 1:10, or at least it was when I typed this.


End file.
